Awake
by exequalistmako
Summary: "There is no 'Avatar Korra', Mako. There never was."


_(( Written for __Makorra Week__ (Day 1- "Fantasy") ))_

* * *

He stared out the window to his right, watching as the snow gently drifted to and fro. It was almost hauntingly beautiful. The sky was grey and the streets were empty of any and all life, making the city look like a ghost town; however, he was still mesmerized by sight. The people of the city tended to treat blizzards like national disasters. They would cower in the warmth of their homes until the worst of it blew over. They would eye the show with distaste— deem it to be a nuisance as they shoveled and Bent it out of their way.

But he longed to be out there. He longed to be a part of it— to be standing in the middle of the street, breathing in the crisp, frigid air as the unforgiving cold nipped at his nose.

He knew it wasn't because he loved the cold. He was a Firebender through and through. The frigid, icy streets were as far away from his comfort zone as he could possibly get.

No, he longed to be out there for one reason and one reason only.

_Because of her._

She would love it. She would be out there, laughing and dancing around in the street. She would somehow convince him to join in her merriment, even though he didn't dance. He could picture every aspect of it— almost as if it were a memory. He swallowed thickly as a pang of longing shot through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. His hands clenched into fists, his fingernails digging half-moons into his palms.

When he opened his eyes, the image would be real. When he opened his eyes, she would be standing in front of him, staring up at him with her beautiful, bright blue eyes.

His heart sank in his chest when he reopened his eyes and he was still sitting in the little office… still stuck in a world that didn't feel _right_.

"… and how are we feeling today?" the woman finally asked, her nasal voice cutting through the terse silence like a knife.

He sighed quietly and turned his attention away from the window, readjusting his position in his armchair as he regarded the therapist with annoyance.

"I don't know what _we're_ feeling…" Mako drawled, picking a piece of lint off of his shirt, "but I'm feeling great."

The woman sighed an jotted a few more notes onto her notepad before setting it back on her lap. She tensed her jaw in annoyance as she adjusted her giant glasses. She looked as if she were ready to strangle him.

He had to surpress a victory smile. That was the exact reaction he wanted from her. The sooner she grew tired of putting up with his nonsense, the sooner she would give up on him. Once that happened, he could then officially denounce Therapy as a lost cause in his case, and Bolin would just have to accept it.

"You aren't going to get better if you don't cooperate," she said stiffly.

He propped his feet on the coffee table as he reclined in his seat.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again— I don't want to 'get better'."

She motioned for him to take his feet off of her table, but he ignored her.

"I'm here to help you, Mako," she said, sighing, "I'm not your enemy."

"You can't give help to someone who doesn't want it," he quipped.

She raised a perfectly-coifed eyebrow at him.

_"Well, you may not want it, but you need it."_

He scoffed, looking back out the window. He didn't have the time or patience for this nonsense.

"You were probably thinking about Her again earlier, weren't you?" she asked.

Mako remained silent. The therapist sighed quietly, taking his silence as confirmation.

"Look, Mako… you need to realize that what you're doing to yourself isn't healthy," she continued, her tone more soothing than before, "your brother asked you to come to these sessions because he's worried about you. Everyone is."

He tensed his jaw, but remained silent.

"Having an imagination is wonderful; however, in your case, you've immersed yourself in this fantasy to the point in which you're miserable in the real world. You can't cope without it. It's become your drug, and you're hopelessly addicted."

"It's not…" he choked out before trailing off and looking down at the floor.

"Go on," she prompted gently.

"It's not a **fantasy**," he said quietly, "it's… not. **This** world is the fantasy— the nightmare. I can't sit here and believe that a world without her in it is real. I won't."

"Mako, she's a figment of your imagination… she's—"

"She has a name…" he interrupted, glaring over at her, "why can't you say it?"

"She doesn't—"

"—Avatar Korra," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "her name is Avatar Korra."

The therapist shifted in her seat awkwardly.

"There is no Avatar Korra, Mako," she said slowly, "there never was. You need to realize that. The previous Avatar was killed in the Avatar State a long time ago. There will never be another Avatar."

He shook his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"Look, I didn't exactly receive a top-notch education when I was younger," he grumbled, "so believe me when I say I'm not smart enough to 'invent' an entire person— an entire_ life_…"

"The mind is a fascinating thing. It's capable of much more than we're even fully aware… and, in your case, it was capable of creating this wholly believable fantasy. I believe it's a coping mechanism. Your life hasn't exactly been easy and… wait, what are you doing?"

He'd jumped up from his seat, and grabbed his jacket and scarf from off of the table.

"… I can't do this anymore. I was only doing this to humor Bolin, okay?" he said, shrugging his jacket on, "but I refuse to sit here and listen to this condescending, judgmental, close-minded drivel you call 'therapy'."

She furrowed her brow.

"It's not—"

"— just save it for someone who actually cares. You're only wasting your time with me— time that could be used on someone right now who actually wants and needs it."

He stalked out of the door, slamming it shut behind him before she could reply.

He shut his eyes and leaned against the wall, sinking down to the ground tiredly.

He was sick and tired of being told he was crazy. He was sick and tired of being told she didn't exist.

It made him want to punch something_… anything. _

"Mako," a beautiful voice whispered in his ear, "what are you doing down here?"

His eyes flew open and he smiled widely as he found himself staring into a pair of familiar blue eyes.

He looked around, finding he was no longer in the hallway outside of the Therapist's office. A wave of relief washed over his body and he felt himself relax for the first time in days. Everything was right in the world again. He was_ home._

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her familiar, calming scent.

"I missed you," he murmured into her hair.

Korra giggled and pushed him away from her, her eyes shining brightly.

"You just saw me a few hours ago, City Boy," she said playfully, "stop being so clingy."

"I'll show you clingy," he said before lunging forward and pinning her to the ground.

"M-mako, what are you— Ahhh nooooo!"

She squirmed on the ground, giggling and screaming as he tickled her sides.

"Who's the best husband in the world?" he asked, tickling her harder.

"Ahhh… y-you are…" she gasped though her laughter, "You're the best husband!"

He stopped tickling her and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her flushed and heated cheek.

She grabbed his face with her hands and pulled him in for a real kiss at the last second, sighing against his lips contentedly. When she pulled away, she had a soft smile on her face.

Her eyes then widened.

"Oh! I have a surprise for you!" she said, hopping off of the ground and pulling him up with her, "I made us dinner!"

He made a show of sniffing the air around him.

"But… I don't smell anything burnt…"

She pouted up at him.

"… that's not funny, Mako," she said through her pout, "I worked really hard on this."

"Fine… lead the way."

She grabbed his hand and yanked him towards the kitchen.

When they entered the room, she gestured to the table excitedly.

"Ta-da!"

He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Uh…" he said, looking at each of the assorted dishes, "why is it all so… small?"

The food was all tiny. Bite-sized.

She looked down at her feet, her expression unsure.

"N-not that it doesn't look good!" he backpedalled, hoping he didn't offend her.

"No, it's not that…" she said quietly, "it's… I was trying to be clever about this…"

"About wha—"

"— I'm pregnant!" she blurted out, "so I made everything tiny. Baby-sized…? I don't know… it was stupid…"

Much to his horror, she burst into tears.

He darted forward and gathered her up in his arms, his mind reeling.

"It was an amazing idea," he said, "I'm just an idiot…"

She giggled and wiped her tears away on his shirt.

"That may be true," she mumbled into his chest, "but you're an idiot that I love."

"I love you, too, Korra," he whispered, tightening his hold on her slightly.

They stood there for a few minutes, luxuriating in the comfortable silence.

"I can't believe I'm going to be a dad…" he muttered quietly.

She took his hand and placed it on her still-flat stomach, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"You're going to be the best damn dad ever," she said, smiling softly.

As he stood there in the kitchen, staring down at his beautiful wife and holding his hand over the place his child was developing, he felt perfect. He felt more content than he'd ever been in his life.

When it felt this tangible, this real… how was he supposed to believe it was all a lie?

If it was all supposedly a lie, it if was all supposedly in his head, was it really so **bad** that he didn't mind? Was it really so **awful** that he chose to believe the lie? Was it really so **wrong** that he preferred fantasy to reality?

Was it really so **terrible** that the thing he dreaded, more than anything else, was simply being awake?

_(( I think I'll just end it there. Heh yeeeah… I don't even know how to react to what I just wrote. ))_

_(( I'm… just gonna… *runs away with tail between legs* ))_


End file.
